If you read Bob Nightengale’s USA Today piece from earlier this week (and Joy on Broad’s sterling write-up on this site), you’re left with only one viable conclusion. Dear God, Bryce Harper, one of the best players in all of baseball, has NO OTHER CHOICE but to sign with your Philadelphia Phillies.
My God. Can you imagine it? His wavy locks flowing in the humid air on an August night as he tracks down a screaming line drive at the warning track, making a 10-point catch to cap off a wondrous 3 for 4 evening at the plate that saw him CRUSH his 30th home run of the season to put the Phillies 20 games above .500 and give them a comfortable five game lead in the NL East.
He’d give the ladies in the right field section his signature wink as he leaves the field, instantly soaking every pair of panties from row 1 to 50. He’d underhand toss the ball to a blind boy in the stands, miraculously curing him after medical science was nothing but a dead end for the young wretch, Harper’s fifth such miracle on the season.
The Phillies are the only logical franchise to sign Harper. They want Harper. They can afford Harper (and more importantly, overpay for Harper). Harper has every reason in the world to sign with the Phillies. Nightengale even guaranteed it:
He will be standing in right field with the Phillies on March 28 at Citizens Bank Park when they open the season against the defending NL East champion Atlanta Braves.
Bank on it.
But in the words of Winston “The Wolf” Wolfe from Pulp Fiction, “Well, let’s not start sucking each other’s dicks quite yet.”
Logic and reason have no place within these city boundaries.
Allow me to douse our Harper excitement with a bucket of ice water and remind everyone that this rarely ever works out for Philadelphia. Besides, depression and pessimism suit this city far better than positivity.
The mere fact that a respected journalist like Nightengale is encouraging Phillies fans to buy their custom Harper jerseys before the Christmas rush should give us all pause. Have we learned nothing from these guarantees?! By my count, Philadelphia franchises have been the betting favorites to sign or trade for SIX superstars in the last year.
And of course, most recently, Bryce Harper AND Manny Machado.
Updated odds for what team Bryce Harper will be on for the first game of the 2019 regular season (@BovadaOfficial):
Red Sox +1500
— OddsShark (@OddsShark) October 29, 2018
Opening odds for which team Manny Machado will be on for the first game of the 2019 regular season (@BovadaOfficial):
— OddsShark (@OddsShark) October 29, 2018
Harper and Machado are yet be determined, but last I checked those other superstars haven’t been spotted at the Broad and Walnut Wawa ordering Turkey Gobblers at 3 a.m.
LeBron decided to play with a worse Lakers roster so he could be in Los Angeles and make shitty sequels to shitty movies (Outside of Bill Murray and the kickass Quad City DJ’s theme song, Space Jam blows). Howie Roseman decided he would rather use a fifth round pick on an obscure tight end from Appaloosa Community College in the 2019 draft than trade for Gordon. Leonard is bound to obey his human masters in Toronto due to Isaac Asimov’s “Rules of Robotics” and Bell is too busy sending obscure, upside down tweets and ripping gravity bong hits to remember to report to Pittsburgh.
We all expected them, or at least hoped, they would be in Philadelphia this year. None of them are.
We all expect Harper or Machado, or even BOTH, to be with Philadelphia next year. We’re the favorites. What can go wrong?
EVERYTHING CAN GO WRONG. Maybe Harper decides he doesn’t want to risk the chance of being forced to pitch the seventh inning during a 19-2 blowout in the first game of a July doubleheader because Gabe wants to “preserve the bullpen.” Maybe the mythical MYSTERY TEAM rears its ugly head and swoops in at the last minute and offers Harper $45 million a year. Maybe the Red Sox decide to go full heel, say fuck it, and sign Machado and Harper to the DISGUST of baseball fans everywhere.
Will Harper be at Citizens Bank Park next March? We should expect nothing.
After all, this is Philadelphia. Nothing ever good happens to us, right?